


Harbors of My Own

by signalbeam



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Can't cook, Community: badbadbathhouse, Established Relationship, F/F, Moving In Together, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-16
Updated: 2010-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signalbeam/pseuds/signalbeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chie and Yukiko move into an apartment together out in the city. Balancing expectations, making space, and dealing with an odd, blue stain on the kitchen counter--it's all part of coming home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harbors of My Own

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt at the badbadbathhouse: _Chie and Yukiko move into an apartment together._
> 
> _...and then promptly wonder how they're going to survive, since both of their cooking sucks._

Living in the city isn’t like anything Yukiko ever expected. To be fair, she had expected to see a mobster walking out on the street (her imagination always has tended towards the ridiculous) or a car crash or… she’s not _entirely_ sure of what she expected, but the neighborhood is quiet and calm. Everything looks a bit grimy, as though she’s walking through dust. There are trees that reach even the twelfth story where she and Chie are living (and, if Yukiko is completely honest, still trying to move into. They’re still trying to figure out how to fit the couch through the doors), and the apartment smells a bit like vinegar and soy sauce, an unexpectedly sharp relief. It reminds her of the kitchens of the Inn. She’ll return to the Inn in a few years, she promises herself as she rubs at a disconcertingly stubborn stain on the kitchen counter; it’s just a matter of finding herself in the city. And getting that degree.

She looks up and away from the stain, and winces against the sun. Their apartment faces nearly perfectly south. Yukiko expects the place will be lit from sun up to sundown. It hadn’t been something that she consciously decided; she and Chie chose the apartment more for its proximity to their university and for its height. The walls must get thinner the higher the apartment gets, because Yukiko’s sure she can hear Chie coming up the stairs. She straightens up, and tries to look composed and not like she had been obsessively cleaning out the kitchen. From the sounds of it, Chie’s displeased about something, and isn’t being particularly kind about it. It’s a little hard to hear it (so maybe the walls _aren’t_ so thin, after all), but Chie sounds as though she’s having a disagreement with someone, and settling it by yelling. Loudly.

“—and I’ll have you know, only dumbasses hate Jackie Chan!”

With that needlessly aggravating exclamation, Chie slams the door behind her. A second later, a cheerful, “I’m back!” comes from the cramped apartment hall. Chie steps into the kitchen carrying a large paper bag.

“Welcome back,” Yukiko says. “You bought dinner?”

“Just until we get the kitchen set up,” Chie assures her. “I mean, they haven’t exactly turned the power on yet…” Chie flips some hair out of her eyes and says, “Sheesh, going up all those stairs is going to be a pain…”

“There is an elevator,” Yukiko points out. She goes to open a window. The window is resolutely stuck, no matter how hard she pulls it up. It’s an impressive, if not annoying, show of stubbornness. She gives up and settles for parting the curtains a bit wider.

“Well… might as well keep up some of my training,” Chie says. She looks about for a chair, and then says, “Right, the dining room…” and leaves to find one. She returns with two chairs and a milk carton. She sets them on the ground, and then says, “It’s like being a freshman in college all over again. Except back then, they made us sleep on cots.”

“Isn’t it?” Yukiko says with a little giggle. She washes her hands, reveling in the cool water falling over her fingers. It’s been a long day, and Yukiko’s spent most of it cleaning and moving. Chie’s return home signals a break.

By the time she’s finished washing her hands, Chie’s already found two bowls and two bottles of beer. “Come eat already,” Chie says. “I’m starved. I might just start without you if you take too long, you know?”

Yukiko smiles and sits across from Chie at their makeshift table. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“Not _that_ long... You don’t have to take everything I say so seriously.”

“Maybe, but it’s more fun if I do.”

“Wh… h-hey, come on, that’s just mean!”

Yukiko giggles again, and breaks the cheap bamboo chopsticks into two halves. “Let’s eat,” she says.

Chie passes Yukiko a beer. Their fingers touch, and Yukiko stifles the tremor that begins in her chest before it can reach her hands. Chie’s fingers cover Yukiko’s, then lets the bottle pass.

“To our new lives, I guess?” Chie says, a bright light almost painfully apparent in her eyes. “Oh geeze, that sounds really corny.”

Yukiko doesn’t mind it at all. She smiles, and takes a sip.

 

\---

 

Yukiko’s had dreams about this before. Not _this_ specific this—her dreams have never included the landlord forgetting to contact the city officials to turn on the power, for one—but at least, something like this, or something similar to it. She dreamed of freedom and chains, and now she has both, a cage unlocked but waiting to be shut again, and a brilliant, blue sky of her own, for as long as she can keep it. Even a cage becomes homely if it is one you lock yourself into, and Yukiko doesn’t regret choosing the Inn. Still, she wants a little taste of this before she goes back to Inaba permanently. It’s not something she wants to think of, but it weighs on her mind now as she calls back home. Her mother’s already talking about her next visit back to Inaba.

“I’ve just moved into the city,” Yukiko points out.

“Of course,” says her mother. “But people change so quickly in the city, dear.”

Yukiko looks out the window, where the streets are surprisingly quiet and peaceful. There are two coffee shops on the block, the coin-operated laundromat at the street corner isn’t getting nearly as much business as she would have expected (don’t people ever wash their clothes out here?), and the park some four streets over is in full bloom. There are some petals resting on her desk from where she’s left the window open. Chie’s been pressing flowers into their textbooks.

“I won’t change,” Yukiko says, knowing full well that it’s a white lie at best. “Maybe during golden week. I’ll have to ask Chie.”

“The two of you aren’t a couple,” her mother says. “You can come home by yourself, am I correct?”

“Yes, yes,” Yukiko says, hoping her startled blush doesn’t show in her voice. Not for the first time, she thinks that this is her mother’s way of telling Yukiko to admit it: Chie is more than just a friend. Yukiko pointedly ignores the request (it’s remarkable how far denial will get you in Japan) and instead says, “But she lives in Inaba, too, and her mother might be worried, too…”

“You may have a point,” her mother says. “Go talk it over with Chie, dear. We’ll talk about this next week.”

“Yes,” Yukiko says. There’s a little uncertain something in her stomach that makes her smile despite herself. “I’m late for work,” she says. “Koya-san is expecting me soon, so…”

“Give him our fondest regards,” says her mother. “And remember to thank him for giving you the job. You’re lucky he’s paying you for this internship.”

Yukiko’s sure she’s already plenty competent at her job, but it helps pay for the bills and rent. She doesn’t want to rely on her parents’ generosity for the rest of her life. “I’ll pass on the message,” she says, and hangs up.

 

\---

 

The electricity’s on, and now the water doesn’t work. The landlord assures her and Chie that the service really is quite competent on most days (“‘Most days’?” Chie wonders aloud once he’s left) and promises to have the water fixed by evening. Yukiko hopes that is the case, because she desperately wants a shower. Chie tells her that no one can tell whether or not Yukiko’s showered that day or not, and on the bright side, it means that Yukiko has at least looked _worse_ than this on some days. This is less comforting than she might expect.

“We can’t go back home next week,” Chie says. “We just moved in!”

“That’s what I told my mother,” says Yukiko. “Although maybe she has a point… we won’t have any time over the summer, with all the work…” She’s back from work. Her shoulders are oddly sore, and she can’t imagine why. She motions Chie to come over, and asks for a backrub. Chie’s fingers curl around the hem of Yukiko’s cardigan, and then her palms press into Yukiko’s hips. “I—Chie?”

“Mhmm?” Chie says into Yukiko’s shoulder.

“I—a backrub, Chie.”

“I’m getting around to it,” Chie says. She turns Yukiko around, and slides the cardigan off her shoulders. Yukiko stares straight at the wall (white now, thanks to Chie’s overenthusiastic decision to scrub _everything_ down with a combination of bleach and vinegar) and, partially thrilled and partially hoping she isn’t embarrassing herself, unbuttons her shirt. She rests onto the futon, and holds her breath. A second later, Chie’s weight presses over her, and Chie’s hands rest on her lower back. Closer is Chie’s face, just over her shoulder, mouth by Yukiko’s ear. The hands move, slowly, up Yukiko’s torso, dipping down to ghost over a breast, then going up to the shoulders. Yukiko turns her head, and catches Chie’s mouth with her own.

“Should I go home?” Yukiko asks, smiling a little even though it’s a serious question.

Chie’s lips press into the back of Yukiko’s neck, half as a smile and half as a kiss and says something that comes out as, “Iunno.” Her hands work on Yukiko’s shoulders, pressing into knots and unraveling them with ease. The feel of Chie’s skin on Yukiko’s makes Yukiko’s mouth go dry and every touch feel electric, as though someone’s tossed a live wire into her stomach. Yukiko squirms out of Chie’s grip so she’s facing Chie, and kisses Chie on the mouth. A surprised, high-pitched noise escapes from Chie’s throat; and, after a little breathless laugh, Chie returns the kiss more deeply.

“You know what the nicest thing about having our own place is?” Chie says. “Not having to worry about the roommates.”

“Mhmm,” Yukiko says, crossing her arms around Chie’s neck. “Well… maybe the neighbors?”

“Oh,” Chie says, sounding almost disappointed. “I forgot about them.”

Yukiko snickers, and draws Chie in a little closer. “I’m sure they’ll return the favor…”

“ _Not_ the image I wanted.”

“But the image of why they’ll have to return the favor isn’t so bad, is it?”

A kiss to the forehead that turns into a grin is Chie’s response. Chie’s hands slide from Yukiko’s chest to the hips. Yukiko shivers, and puts a hand to Chie’s collar.

“You’re still wearing too much,” Yukiko says. She undoes the first button, and splays her hand out on Chie’s chest. “I don’t think that’s really fair.”

 

\---

 

The water came back around midnight. Chie is still in the shower, and Yukiko is going through the fridge trying to find something to eat. They have meat buns and some kind of beef cake and flat rice noodles cooked with double cooked pork and—Yukiko can see a theme here.

Her mother sent a box of seaweed a few days ago, and when Chie and Yukiko moved into the apartment, they bought some groceries. The lettuce looks wilted, but it’ll perk back up once she soaks it in some cold water. And they have some frozen shrimp in the freezer and some rice, so she can make… shrimped lettuce? What does one make with lettuce, anyway?

Never mind that. She leaves the lettuce in a bowl and goes looking for the box with the spices only to remember that Chie put the spices in a cabinet somewhere. Now it’s just a matter of remembering which. Lettuce and shrimp spiced with curry and mustard and maybe some wasabi sauce. No, they don’t have wasabi. Horseradish it is.

 

\---

 

Chie steps into the kitchen, blots of water trailing after her. The kitchen…

“Has that spot always been on the counter?” she wonders, trying to make light of the splatter of strange, blue ( _blue_?) goop on the counter.

Yukiko scowls at the spot with surprising vehemence, as though the spot has done her wrong, and swipes off the blue on the counter with a towel. “I’m sorry,” Yukiko says. “Um… I made something for us to eat.”

Is it blue, Chie wants to joke, except she knows that Yukiko will probably throw the towel at Chie if she does. “Great,” Chie says. She turns to the table. Oh. It _is_ blue.

They sit at the table together, both staring at the their plates. It seems—okay, it’s not really Yukiko’s fault that her cooking’s sometimes goes a bit off, but she really had been improving. Just recently, Yukiko mastered how to cook and retain some semblance of flavor. Chie’s just gotten past the ‘don’t make things explode’ stage, but at least she’s never made anything _blue_.

“Um,” Yukiko says. “Please, enjoy…”

“I will,” Chie says. She pokes the food around a little more. “It’s, um. Blue.”

Yukiko’s chopsticks click together in a way that suggest they might be severing something. Like Chie’s neck.

“You don’t like it?” Yukiko says.

“I haven’t even tried it!”

“Maybe we should order takeout…”

Oh, screw it. Now she’s just being blatantly manipulative. Chie lifts some of the blue—the blue—is this meat or vegetable or weird tofu-thing?—to her mouth and pops it into her mouth.

The _taste_ at least isn’t too bad, but the texture is… it’s interesting.

She swallows and offers, “The rice helps moderate the taste.”

Yukiko makes an unenthusiastic noise.

“We could always live on cheap convenience store food,” Chie says. “While we figure out how to do this cooking thing, you know? It’s not like we have a shortage of time.”

Yukiko tries some of the blue… food and then says, “Well… at least Sugao-san’s lucky pot seems to be helping.”

‘Lucky pot?’

“He gave me one in case I needed some of the Inn’s fighting spirit with me when I try to cook or bake or things like that. You know how those things work.”

In fact, Chie has no idea. (She can’t imagine why she’d ever use a pot while baking. Even she’s not that dumb.) She eats some more. After a while, the texture doesn’t really faze her, and the food vanishes a little more quickly from her plate. She’s always had a stomach of iron. Maybe. She’s never let anything Rise’s cooked get too close to her mouth, so her stomach of iron might just be a stomach of steel instead. No, wait… maybe it’s the other way around?

In any case, if she eats this quickly enough, she won’t get food poisoning. She thinks so, at least.

 

\---

 

“It was terrible, wasn’t it?” Yukiko asks later that night.

“Mmnngh?”

“I mean—I thought the food coloring might improve the taste, but…”

“Yukiko… it’s four in the morning.”

“Maybe the food coloring doesn’t have any taste?”

“I’m going back to sleep, okay?”

 

\---

 

Chie’s convinced that a cockroach is in the apartment. Yukiko thinks it might be a figment of Chie’s imagination (she’s always had a strange habit of seeing bugs where there aren’t any), but nonetheless is playing stake out while Chie’s out in class, reading today’s newspaper and peeking over the top of the papers when she sees anything moving—which is, more often than not, just a shadow of a flower petal blowing through the winds. She has a slipper and yesterday’s paper at the ready in case she sees anything with more than four legs even as much as twitch.

Petals are stuck to the windows. It is going to rain soon, tonight or tomorrow. Just a little sprinkle. (She hopes that the roof won’t leak.) Maybe later she and Chie will go out and watch the blossoms. The park will be a nice place to go. Maybe she’ll go for a walk now. The city has many different kinds of trees and flowers, more than maybe Inaba’s ever had, and they’re all very beautiful, but away from home, the prettiest things are familiar things. She thinks it’s not entirely unexpected—what’s beautiful is beautiful, no matter where—or unwanted, but no. She won’t go to the park today. She doesn’t want to walk there, not on these city streets. The streets aren’t particularly crowded or empty or dirty or filthy, but when she walks she feels oddly compressed. She misses feeling as though she can take a walk and know what or who she’ll meet along the way. She never thought she’d miss _that_ part of Inaba, but it makes more sense the more she thinks about it. She misses knowing where her place is and knowing who knows her and knowing why people know her.

There’s work to do at home. The spot on the counter still hasn’t gone away. The bathroom still has a bit of green… something in one corner. If this was the Inn, then she would have someone fix it, or fix it herself, but this is home and there is time to learn. Maybe she should bake something in Sugao-san’s lucky pot—but no, Chie said that might be a bad idea, so maybe not. In any case, judging by how the microwave isn’t displaying a time, the power’s just gone out again, so it’s not like she’d be able to see anything in the bathroom without a flashlight.

Tomorrow is the air conditioning’s turn to break. She’ll have to buy a fan. With every rainfall in spring, it gets warmer and warmer. She looks out into the city and it comes to her suddenly that this is the springtime of her life.


End file.
